Confessions of a Caterer

People started urging us to go into business for ourselves, and we realized there was a demand for a high-end catering business here. So we decided we would go to clients' homes, prepare lavish meals and meet wonderful people. As You Like It was born.

We soon discovered that our clients were no slouches when it came to entertaining. One told me, "I'd just like to have a simple dinner party. Nothing too fancy. Perhaps we can do a Tuscan-style supper equivalent to that which might be served in the vineyards of California." Hmm . simplicity at its best!

We toiled to meet their aspirations. They were paying us well, and they deserved that. It often surprised me that money was no object when it came to entertaining. Prices that would have made a non-Naples resident weak in the knees were met with a smile and a handshake.

Our motto was: "Nothing is too big or too small." We would soon learn to eat those words as we scrambled to feed 100 people out of two coolers and a couple of sauté pans. But the majority of our clients preferred to entertain on an intimate scale, and most events ranged from eight to 20 people. We also received calls from clients who wanted to surprise their wives with a cozy anniversary dinner for two. Or we would get the call from a wife who had an aversion to cooking but wanted a home-cooked meal to celebrate her husband's birthday. On more than one occasion we were asked to remain a silent partner, as the host preferred to take credit for the culinary delights. We would drop the food off, and the client would arrange the entrées on his or her own personal plates and platters, and no one was the wiser.

TESSA, EITHE R GO WITH SUBHEAD: COFFEE WITH YOU HAND SOAP? OR IF YOU DON'T WANT A SUB, EACH STORY COULD HAVE AN INITIAL CAP.WHATEVER YOU THJNK IS BETTER

One couple I met was a bit naïve when it came to entertaining. They were nervous and wanted everything to be just right. They had a small home, but with a lovely outdoor entertaining area that would have been perfect for a summer soiree. There was even partial covering in case of rain. However, they were afraid that people might get wet if it did rain, and they insisted they wanted the party indoors despite the limited space.

I suggested a buffet, which would have allowed the guests to wander freely inside and out, but a sit-down it was. The hostess was a lovely woman with a strong will. She suggested clearing the furniture out of her bedroom and setting up tables and chairs in there. The bathroom could be used for the coffee machine and cups, and wine could be kept in the bathtub for easy access. I tried to dissuade her, but to no avail.

So off I went to make this work. My husband was in the kitchen frantically arranging lobster tails over a bed of greens for a party of 30 in a kitchen not much larger than a walk-in closet. I turned the bathroom into a makeshift bar to the best of my ability.

When the guests arrived, we greeted them with smiles and led them into the bedroom for dinner. While the courses were being served, guests would intermittently arrive in the bathroom to request a drink. But on more than one occasion, I was asked to excuse myself as nature called.

Cold Poached Florida Lobster Salad with Aioli

Serves 4

4 lobster tails, medium sized

1/4 cup pickling spice

1 cup dry white wine

1 lemon, cut in half

1 orange, cut in half

Onions, carrots and celery, equal parts

1 bay leaf

3 sprigs parsley

3 sprigs fresh thyme

1/4 cup cognac

Bring all ingredients (except lobster and cognac) together in large stock pot of boiling water. Simmer for 30 minutes; add lobster tails.

Simmer for an additional 10-15 minutes; drain and cool. Remove meat from shell and cut each tail into medallions. Lightly drizzle cognac over the meat.

Garlic Aioli

2 egg yolks

3-4 cloves of roasted garlic, mashed into paste

1/2 ounce red or white vinegar

1/2 ounce water

1 tablespoon dry mustard

8 ounces vegetable oil

8 ounces olive oil, extra virgin

Salt and pepper to taste

Lemon juice, fresh squeezed, to taste

Combine the yolks, garlic, vinegar and mustard in a bowl. Mix together until mixture is slightly frothy. Add oils a little at a time and consistently beat with a whisk until they are incorporated and the mayo is thick. (This can also be done with a hand mixer.) Adjust flavor with salt, pepper and lemon juice. Serve on the side over a bed of mixed greens.

SOMETHING FISHY?

Gulf Shore Boulevard is home to many beautiful apartments with extravagant amenities. However, when the host is unfamiliar with those amenities, problems can arise for the caterer. At one evening party, as we were unloading our coolers and cambros (hot boxes for keeping food warm), I turned the oven on to heat some hors d'oeuvres before the guests arrived. After about five minutes, I returned to the oven, but to my dismay, found no heat. As I looked inside, I was shocked to see the oven manuals still sitting on one of the racks.

I called the hostess over and asked her how long she had lived in the apartment. She proclaimed that she lived here seasonally but had been coming down for eight years. I asked if she had ever used the oven. "Oh, no," she said. "We go to the club or out to dinner. Why should we cook when we have wonderful people such as you?" Although I appreciated the compliment, I wished that she at least had tested the oven. I explained the situation and she suggested that we could use the building's kitchen, located on the ground floor. The problem was that it was 22 stories below.

Guests were arriving and they would be expecting food. My husband raced to the elevator and searched the parking area until he found a rolling luggage cart. That luggage cart was a lifesaver. We carted sauté pans, pots, sheet pans and utensils downstairs, and packed up our pieces of pompano.

In the kitchen on the 22nd floor, I attended to the salad and dessert, running down occasionally to check on hubby, who was juggling hors d'oeuvres, baking pompano and sautéing veggies in a Suzy-Homemaker-style kitchen. While there, I would pick up a batch of the heated appetizers and quickly roll them onto the elevator and back into the apartment.

As dinner came to a close, the hostess suggested that it would also be a good idea for us to use the dishwasher downstairs, as the majority of the plates and glasses had been borrowed from that area and would be easier for us to put away. Once again, we loaded up the luggage rack and clanked our way down to the ground floor with plates and glasses galore. Of course, the service elevator was out of order, so we were traveling with residents. Some seemed amused; others less than happy to be riding with pieces of leftover fish.

Old Florida-Style Pompano Encrusted in Rock Salt

Serves 4

4 whole pompano

Rock salt or ice-cream salt

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Use four tin loaf pans, four inches deep. Pour one inch of rock salt in bottom of each pan. Wash out whole pompano with 3/4 cup vinegar mixed with two cups of cold water. Without cutting off heads or tails, lay them on top of the salt. (If they're too long for the pan, cut off the tails, but do not remove heads.)

Pour more salt to surround fish completely. Then cover with another inch of salt. Moisten salt with water. (The water will make salt solidify.) Place the pan in the oven and bake until water is evaporated, leaving the salt hard. Serve the pompano in the salt block with a hammer for each guest to crack open.

Serve with your favorite seafood dipping sauce and rice.

In the Pink

One sunny spring afternoon, I served at a private party for a bridal shower. A group of about 30 women attended. The theme was pink, and everything was pink-serving plates, clothes, even the food.

My husband made pink canapés of smoked salmon on white toast sprinkled with pink rose petals, and swirls of strawberry butter on wedges of Brie. The soup was shrimp bisque served in pink bowls with pink napkins. The entrée was homemade fettuccine dyed with pink food coloring and topped off with bits of lobster in a pink vodka sauce. For dessert, we served raspberry sorbet in pink glasses and champagne with framboise.